


You Fit Me Better Than My Favorite Sweater

by hedasgonnahate



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-11
Updated: 2015-12-16
Packaged: 2018-03-17 08:52:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3523106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hedasgonnahate/pseuds/hedasgonnahate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An AU in which Lexa is a frequent customer at the thrift store that Clarke works at.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

“Clarke. CLARKE!”

She startled awake, swiping at her eyes to fight the grogginess.

“Yep!”

“Your break’s over. Were you sleeping?” Octavia asked her knowingly.

“Absolutely not.”

She ignored the eye-roll she received in return and stood from the picnic table. The sun glared down upon the two and Clarke took one last moment to enjoy the first warm day in weeks.

“Back to hell,” she mumbled, bumping Octavia’s shoulder with her own.

Octavia turned to her and shoved her toward the small building across the parking lot, smirking.

“It’s not even that bad. C’mon we got a bunch of bags of donations while you were napping it up out here.”

“I wasn’t napping,” Clarke began, “...I was hiding from you.”

She jumped back so that she was just out of reach of Octavia’s inevitable slap.

Pulling the door open, the mixed smell of must, mothballs, and flowery air freshener invaded Clarke’s senses. She blinked slowly to adjust to to the new, dimmer lighting.

Her eyes browsed over the rows of clothes to see if there were any customers.

There weren’t.

The thrift shop didn’t get much business.

She moved to the lone register to see who was behind the counter and grinned as Monty gave her a little wave.

“Having fun?”

His soft black hair fell over his eyes as he shook his head, lazily.

“Pretty bored. I could have left hours ago and boss would be none the wiser.”

Clarke moved behind the counter to ruffle his hair affectionately.

“You need a haircut.”

“And you need to go help O sort out the new clothes we got.”

"Yeah, yeah, yeah."

She wandered slowly toward the back of the shop, not in any hurry to actually do work.

As soon as Octavia saw her, though, she pointed to a giant black trashbag full of clothes.

"That one is yours. Sort by size and then color. Then tag them."

"Mhmmm."

The chimes on the door jingled, alerting them of someone's entrance.

Clarke ignored the sound, knowing Monty would handle whatever or whoever it was.

She pulled out the first pile of clothes, folding them expertly before putting them into piles.

"Clarke," she looked up as Octavia hissed her name in a half-whisper.

"What?"

"She's here!"

"The boss?" Despite already having been doing work, she straightened up and tried to look extra professional.

"No, stupid. The girl. Flower child. Hipster queen."

Clarke's head shot up far too quickly for her to be able to continue to deny that she was interested, so she just peered across the room.

The girl's back was turned toward them as she inspected a shirt, but Clarke instantly recognized her.

Her wavy hair fell wildly, well below her shoulders. She was wearing high wasted shorts and a crop top.

Clarke stared, silently willing her to turn around.

"Go ask her if she needs help with anything."

"She comes here all the time. She doesn't need any hel---"

She had already been roughly shoved toward the girl, who, at the sound of Clarke stumbling into a coat rack, turned to look back at what the commotion was.

Clarke ran a hand through her messy hair, nervously, and walked closer.

"Did you need any help finding anything ...or anything?"

The girl's full lips quirked with the hint of a smile.

Realizing she was marveling at the girl's lips, Clarke's gaze shot back up to her eyes.

Those were lovely too. Of course.

"I'm good," the girl answered amusedly, "but thank you."

"Of course!" Clarked chirped, far louder than was necessary or appropriate.

She quickly retreated to the back of the store, ignoring Octavia's laughter.

 

 

 

The next time ‘the girl’ came into the shop was a week later and Clarke hid in the back with the old lady clothes that no one ever bought.

It was just her and Raven on shift. Had Octavia been there, she would have never heard the end of it.

After ten minutes, though, Raven called her over to the register.

She weaved through aisles, going out of her way to keep a comfortable distance between herself and the beautiful stranger, who was kneeling at the shoes section, inspecting a pair of flats.

“Cover me?” Raven asked her as soon as she was within earshot. She looked at Clarke expectantly, head tilted and eyes wide.

“Sure.”

She was instantly rewarded with a full blown Raven grin, who hopped around and hurried off to the back room to call her new boyfriend.

Clarke leaned beside the register and pulled up her phone to play online Scrabble.

She startled at the sound of a throat clearing expectantly.

Looking up, she inhaled sharply. She had never seen her up so close.

On that particular day, she was wearing an oversized tee shirt and skinny jeans.

Her hair was pulled back in a messy bun and Clarke admired the sudden exposure of her strong jawline. What would it feel like to run her hands along those chiseled features and--

“Are you all set?” she managed, fighting a blush.

The girl nodded politely.

“You must have a lot of clothes by now,” Clarke commented, trying to kill the awkward silence as the old cash register slowly acknowledged the transaction.

The girl raised an eyebrow and she smiled fully, high cheekbones on display.

“I like it here,” the girl confessed, almost shyly. Her voice was soft.

“Why?” Clarke spit out incredulously

“Besides the cute clothes, there’s the music, the solitude, and just the overall atmosphere. It’s really homey.”

“It smells like basement. Wait, you like my music?”

The girl looked at her blankly.

“I make the playlists.”

At Clarke’s clarification, she leant forward excitedly, forgetting the shoes between them.

“You have really good taste…” upon peering down at her nametag she finished, “Clarke.”

Her pulse sped up, partially from knowing the girl shared her passion for good music and partially from hearing her name spoken by her.

And if she was being honest, another part would simply be that she was standing across from someone who was particularly stunning.

“Thanks….”

“Lexa.”

“Lexa.” She repeated it aloud and then again in her head.

She had nothing left to say, but she didn’t want the conversation to end

Before she could think of something to tell the other girl, Lexa was backing away, lifting her hand in a cute wave.

“I look forward to hear what you have playing next time, Clarke.”

“Yeah,” she answered dumbly, “next time.”

The chimes jingled and she was left feeling simultaneously as dumb and as hopeful as ever.

When Raven came back five minutes later, Clarke was still gazing dreamily at the door.


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A link to the mix that Lexa made Clarke: http://8tracks.com/juliyeahh/for-clarke

“Hot date?”

Octavia leaned over to steal a chip out of her bag. She didn’t bother to slap the hand away.

They were both sitting on the counter beside the register, having given up on maintaining a professional visage after hours of being open with no customers.

“What? No. Why?”

“You’re wearing makeup.”

Clarke’s quickly ran a hand across her cheek, self consciously.

“I always wear makeup.”

“Maybe some mascara, but not the whole shebang. Who you tryin’ to impress?”

Lexa.

She fought the smile threatening to form and scoffed.

“O, you know you’re the only one for me.”

She received an over-dramatic cheek kiss in return and the topic was changed.

By 8 PM, Clarke had given up hope that Lexa would be coming that day.

Just like the other five days before.

She felt pathetic for how long she spent making new playlists to impress her and more so for staring longingly at the door for most of the day.

When, exactly, is next time?

Turning to see Octavia texting furiously on her phone, she mused that there was no use in them both sitting there doing nothing for the last hour.

After all, Octavia had an actual significant other to get to. All she had was a probably-straight, most-definitely-not-into-her customer.

“Go hang out with Lincoln. I’ll close up.”

Octavia’s face lit up and she squealed, hurrying to grab her purse.

“You’re the best. You don’t need the extra makeup, babe. The hipster girl would be lucky to have you.”

“...Wha--huh?” A flustered Clarke is not a eloquent Clarke.

She received a wink in return and then Octavia was gone.

Clarke was left alone in the small shop, blushing to herself.

When the chimes jingled 5 minutes to closing, she was startled and had half a mind to tell whoever thought they could shop for vintage clothes at this time to reevaluate their existence.

Then she saw who it was and she took an unsteady breath.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

Lexa wasn’t dressed how she normally was. Instead, she was dressed professionally. In a pantsuit. Even her Converse were traded in for heels.

Clarke was unable to stop her eyes from wandering. She needed to commit it all to memory. 

Lexa stepped toward her, but then looked down at her feet nervously.

“I just got out of work and wanted to stop by real quick.”

She looked really, really pretty.

“I actually have to close now…”

“No, I know. I’m not here to shop.”

“Oh.”

“I came to give you this.”

Lexa pulled something from behind her back and bit her lip before thrusting it awkwardly into Clarke’s hands.

“I made you a mix CD. I know it’s so 1990’s, but I thought you might like these bands based on what you play. You might already know them, but its...”  
Clarke watched dumbfounded, as the other girl rolled her eyes at herself and trailed off.

She inspected the CD in her hands.

She wanted to tell Lexa how sweet it was. How flattered she was to think of her and to spend that time on her. She wanted to swoon. She wanted to kiss her full lips that were pulled in an uncomfortable grimace at the silence.

She settled for an enthusiastic “this is awesome!”

Lexa’s demeanor instantly relaxed and she grinned, toothily.  
Clarke felt her smile grow in reflection.

After a moment, Lexa shook her head as if she had been in a daze.

“I’ll let you close up.”

Disappointed that their interaction was coming to an end, Clarke pulled out some bravery she didn’t know was in her. Or maybe it was desperation.

“If you wait a minute for me, we can walk out together?” It was more of a question than a suggestion.

Lexa's deep ocean eyes widened slightly, but she nodded slowly.

With her watching, Clarke only tripped one time while collecting her things.

She considered it a feat.

Especially when she heard Lexa stifle a giggle.


	3. 3

“So your girl came in yesterday.”

“I don’t have a girl.”

Octavia ignored her, as per usual.

“I have to say, Clarke... she may be hot and has damn good style, but she’s kind of a bitch.”

“What, what?”

Surely they weren’t thinking of the same person.

Surely Octavia was not speaking of the girl who made a mixed CD for a near stranger (which Clarke had since played seven times), who opened her car door for her when they left that night, and whose wide eyes she caught as she glanced through her rear-view mirror before she drove out of sight.

“I told Monty about your crush,” Octavia paused for only a moment as Clarke groaned, “and when I described her, he said ‘that’s the girl who always glares at me.’ Turns out whenever she buys stuff she just stares him down and doesn’t say a word the entire transaction...and we’re talking about Monty here, Clarke. That sweet, sweet boy. Who can be mean to Monty?!”

“That couldn’t be Lexa.”

“She’s like our only customer, Clarke.”

“Maybe he was misinterpreting it. She’s shy.”

Octavia rolled her eyes.

“Okay, but then yesterday I experienced it for myself.”

Clarke let out a frustrated huff.

“Are you sure its Lexa?”

“I’m sure its Lexa. Let me tell you, she looks like a carefree hippie, but girl can really mean mug.”

Clarke considered it for a moment.

“Maybe that’s just her face. Maybe she just looks like she’s glaring, but she’s not.”

Octavia rolled her eyes, but relented.

“Maybe.”

Clarke thought that, mercifully, the conversation would end, but worse was to come because Octavia was grabbing onto her sleeve to get her attention.

“Looks like we’re about to find out, lover girl.”

In was was sauntering Lexa, eyes cast downward. Clarke’s heart sped up in anticipation, ignoring the persistent tugging on her shirt.

She shrugged Octavia off, marveling at the expanse of new skin shown by Lexa’s loose fitting crop top; her midriff was toned and paled slightly by winter.

Watching the muscles of Lexa’s abdomen move as she walked closer, she wondered if she had any other freckles on her body like that one speck of color punctuating her impossibly plump upper lip.

Clarke particularly liked that freckle.

Subconsciously, she took slow steps toward the brunette, finally forcing her gaze upward and her gaping mouth closed.

“Hey.”

Lexa’s ducked head quickly raised, and the wild tendrils of her hair danced across her shoulders at the motion.

“Hello, Clarke.”

There was a hint of a smile at her lips. Clarke started to respond with a grin of her own, but Octavia was at her side again.

“Hi. I’m Octavia.” She spoke confidently and formally to Lexa, as if they hadn’t already encountered each other.

Clarke looked to Lexa for her reaction, but her face was blank. Gone was the smile from before. She looked almost bored.

“Octavia,” Lexa repeated the named with a curt nod, but said nothing else.

The three young women stood in awkward silence for about a minute before Octavia gave up and sauntered off, but not being giving Clarke a look she was very familiar with seeing. It was one that said ‘See! I told you so!’

Lexa’s behavior was very strange indeed.

When Clarke snuck a glance back at her, Lexa’s stoic expression was slowly softening. She met Clarke’s gaze and shrugged.

Before she could even think to form an appropriate way to ask what the hell just happened, Lexa spoke.

“I’m not really much of a people person, Clarke.”

She didn’t know how to respond to that, so she went the ridiculous route.

“You know I myself am a people, right?”

Lexa let out a breathy, surprised laugh.

Clarke felt her stomach swoop, watching green eyes glint in amusement.

“So you are.”

She didn’t know what it meant, why Lexa was an entirely different person with Octavia around, but she couldn’t really dwell on that because Lexa was so beautiful and she was so weak.

They spoke for several minutes about the mix CD and which songs Clarke liked best.

She liked all of them.

Behind the counter, Octavia was grumpily watching on.

It wasn’t until later that night when Clarke was laying in bed, about to fall asleep, that she realized a very important fact: when Lexa had come into the thrift shop that day, she never even spared a glance at the clothes.

 

 

 

 

It’s a small shopping outlet, or plaza. At least that’s what Clarke’s boss calls it, but it’s really just a row of shitty restaurants and a convenience store and then directly across is a hair salon and the thrift shop.

Framing the edge of the parking lot is small grassy area with several picnic tables.

This is the spot Clarke adopted as her lunch and resting spot, especially on warm days.

She was spending her break drawing in her notebook. Raven sent her outside because she was complaining so much about being cooped up on such a nice day.

What started as aimless marks on the page was slowly turning into a familiar figure, the one who had been monopolizing her thoughts a whole lot lately. Without meaning to or wanting to, Clarke kept drawing Lexa.

It started as a vague sketch, just the curve of her lips. Then her jawline. Her eyes. Her hair.

A week later and she couldn’t find a page in the notebook that wasn’t covered in Lexa.

She always got attached too fast, Octavia would say. Hell, she barely knew the girl and she was already smitten.

The plaza wasn’t a particularly popular spot, so when she heard the slap of flip flops on the pavement, she looked up in interest.

She inhaled sharply, instantly filled with nerves.

Speak of the devil.

Lexa was moving across the parking lot, offering her a small wave. The sun was behind her giving her an angelic glow. The devil's looks sure were deceiving.

Instead of returning the wave, Clarke’s first instinct was self-preservation and she quickly slammed the notebook shut.

Upon reaching the table, Lexa tossed a bag of chips on the table.

“I was in the neighborhood. Hungry?”

Clarke tried not to smile too wide, tried not to look too pleased.

Presumably, she failed.

“For chips? Always.”

She grabbed the bag and ripped it open enthusiastically. Without a moment’s hesitation, she stuffed a handful in her mouth.

Lexa plopped down across from her, grinning, and stretched her arm across toward the bag.

Tugging it out of reach, Clarke offered a crooked grin.

“I thought these were for me?”

Lexa rolled her eyes playfully, which delighted Clarke.

The beautiful brunette crossed her arms on the table and leaned forward toward her.

“May I please have one chip?”

It was spoken low and huskily.

Clarke, dazed, handed over her the whole bag. She snapped back to attention at Lexa’s laugh.

Did she know what she was doing?

It did not escape Clarke’s knowledge that after taking a single chip, Lexa gently placed the bag back onto her side of the table.

“So what’s in your notebook?”

Uh oh. “Drawings.”

“Can I see?”

Clarke nervously pulled the notebook into her lap, under the table and out of view.

“Some other time. These ones are really bad. Just doodles.”

A flash of disappointment flashed across Lexa’s face, or maybe it was dejection.

“I wouldn’t judge you, Clarke.”

It was said so sincerely, so softly, she almost handed the notebook over just like the bag of chips.

Almost.

If Lexa saw her drawings, she’d think she was a total stalker. More importantly, she’d know about her crush.

Whatever this was, a potential friendship... she didn’t want to ruin it.

“It’s not that!” She assured the other girl. “I’d just rather the first work you see of mine be ones I’m really proud of.”

The frown marring Lexa’s features relaxed and she nodded. She reached for another chip, which Clarke decided not to mention.

“So you’re an artist.”

She felt herself relax, knowing Lexa wasn’t upset at her.

“I’d like to think so. And what exactly is it that you do?”

Lexa sighed at the question and then winced. “I’m an economist.”

“Wow,” Clarke whistled, impressed, then joked, “and how’s the economy?”

“Absolute shit.”

Their eyes met and they smiled goofily at each other.

For the next several minutes, they discussed the details of Lexa's job. 

They both startled at the sound of a sudden insistent buzzing. 

Lexa pulled her phone out of her pocket gracelessly, sighing at whatever the text message read.

As she texted back, Clarke took the moment to admire her. Her lips were pursed and eyebrows knit in concentration. Clarke was enthralled by everything about her, like the way she twisted a strand of hair around her finger aimlessly before looking back up to her.

Caught staring, Clarke turned her attention to the bag of chips.

“Thanks for these, by the way.”

Lexa shrugged, face serious.

"No problem. I gotta get going, though."

Clarke wondered if the mood change had something to do with the text she received, but didn't ask.

As Lexa stood, Clarke thought desperately of how to get her to stay.

She was at a loss.

"Okay. Well I'll see you...?"

Lexa smirked, back to her usual self and replied slyly, "well I have to get my clothes somewhere, right?"

Clarke stared up at her dumbly.

That was the effect of a Lexa smirk.

Realizing she had been on break for quite some time, she stood too.

Raven was going to kick her ass.

Lexa started to back away, but before she turned, Clarke called out to her.

Where she drew this confidence from, she'd never figure out, but she did and that's all that matters.

"You know, you don't need to use the thrift shop as an excuse to hang out with me, right?"

Lexa looked flustered, almost offended at the accusation put forth, but then cocked to her head to the side in thought.

Clarke's racing heart sped up when Lexa spoke.

"You know that bag of chips?"

She nodded slowly. It was still in her hand. She was going to throw the empty bag away when she got back inside. What the hell did that have to do with anything?

"My number is on it."

Oh.

Clarke felt her face flush as she peered down at the bag and sure enough, a series of numbers were scribbled messily right over the company logo.

When she looked up to reply, Lexa was already across the parking lot, climbing into her car.

Clarke recognized a tightness in her chest that felt a whole lot like trouble.

Raven would ask her, hours later, why she kept smiling like a dork, and she would only smile wider.


	4. 4

It took 15 seconds for Clarke to put Lexa’s number in her phone and 5 days to do anything with that number.

When she finally did work up the nerve to send a text, she went for short and sweet.

_Hey. It’s Clarke._

It was a Saturday, one of few she had off work, and she was still curled up in bed despite it being past noon. When she heard that thrilling buzz minutes later, she experienced a brief fight with her bed sheets. Her phone tangled was within them and she growled in frustration.

Triumphantly pulling it loose, she swiped it open.

_Hello, Clarke. What are you up to today?_

Was she asking her out? Or was that simply a pleasantry? Damn text messages and their inability to convey the intended meanings and tones.

 _Enjoying a rare day off. You?_  That was open-ended enough.

Lexa’s reply came fast.

 _I was thinking of grabbing lunch at my favorite deli. Any interest_?

Clarke read it several times to make sure she was being invited.

Grinning wildly, she answered.

_How could I turn down a good sandwich? What’s the address? I’ll meet you there._

_I've attached a link to the deli website, with the name and address. How’s 1:30?_

_Perfect. See you then._

She let out a nervous huff of laughter at the affirming  _“You will”_  that Lexa sent her in closing.

Clarke pulled up at the deli fifteen minutes early, still glancing at herself in the mirror, second guessing her outfit and her hair and her general existence.

She startled, embarrassingly so, at a tap on her window. Clutching her chest, she swung her head to see who was to blame. Lexa was leaning down, face inches from the glass, eyes wide as if she didn’t expect such a reaction. Clarke forced a glare onto her face even though she was actually really happy to see her. 

She swung open the car door, forcing Lexa to take a quick step back.

“Are you trying to kill me?”

Clarke watched as Lexa fought a smile. It was really endearing.

“Did we not plan to meet here?”

“Yeah, but we did not plan you sneaking up on me and giving me heart palpitations.”

Those palpitations had nothing to do with being startled.

“I’m sorry, Clarke.” Her voice was genuine, but the sly smile she was wearing suggested she wasn’t really all that apologetic.

Clarke gave her a small shove, eliciting a surprised laugh.

As Lexa walked toward the entrance, Clarke admired her outfit... among other things. Spring was in full swing now, so it was a bit dreary out. April showers and such. So, Lexa was sporting denim skinny jeans and a simple purple button down with the sleeves rolled up.

Clarke looked down at her own outfit one more time. It was okay, but was the snapback overkill? Was she trying too hard to seem relatively not straight?

Lexa pulled the door open and she tipped her head expectantly, looking a bit like a puppy until Clarke acquiesced by entering first. Satisfied, Lexa followed close behind.

Charmed, Clarke let out a shy, “thanks,” to which Lexa responded with an even shyer nod.

Behind a large counter was a mustached middle aged man in an apron and he gave them an enthusiastic greeting.

“What can I get you ladies?” Lexa ordered first, giving Clarke time to look over the options. She settled on the classic Italian sub and Lexa got a turkey and avocado wrap.

As the man handed them their bags of food, Clarke looked around the place for seating options. There were two tables. She moved to one of them, but Lexa tugged her back by her forearm. She wasn’t opposed to the unnecessary contact.

“There’s a park right across the road. Want to eat there instead?”

“Sounds good.”

It wasn’t particularly nice out, but Lexa looked so hopeful at the idea.

Hell, Clarke would happily sit and eat the rain if it came to it as long as Lexa was there too.

She shook that thought out of her head as they walked past their cars and toward the park.

They didn’t talk during the short walk, but the silence was a comfortable one.

The park ended up being really pretty, full of green grass and a marble pathway. Lexa led her to the bench that was closest to the massive, ornate fountain in the center.

So close, in fact, that Clarke felt a slight mist in the air, which she didn’t mind.

They pulled out their sandwiches and began to eat, both watching the rushing water.

“This is amazing,” Clarke told Lexa after swallowing a massive bite of her sub. It was pretty good, but she may have been exaggerating her enthusiasm to get a smile out of Lexa.

It worked.

“Right?!”

When they were finished eating, Clarke looked over and saw that Lexa looked like she wanted to say something. She looked uncomfortable, fidgeting and tugging at one of her braids. Finally, she spoke. 

"Look, I'm not really used to doing this kind of thing. I have like three friends and they're people I've known since a kid who I don't even like most of the time. Am I supposed to tell you about myself? What comes now?" 

Clarke stifled a laughed at the adorably bewildered look on Lexa's face. 

Had she finally found someone more awkward than herself? 

"We can just hang out and talk, you know? Friendship isn't a strict thing. There's no wrong way to do it."

Lexa considered this, face serious, and then nodded as if it had never occurred to her.

"Do you want to hear about the time I accidentally went to work in my pajamas? And by that time I mean this past Friday..." 

She didn't bother to stifle a laugh that time. 

  
About an hour later, they were standing side by side at Clarke's car, heatedly debating which National Geographic show was better: Cosmos or Wicked Tuna. 

"Fishing never beats the sheer vastness of the universe, Clarke," Lexa spoke with the same scolding tone an adult would use on a child. 

Clarke scoffed stubbornly, but gave up the argument in lieu of spending the next century listening to Lexa gush about Neil deGrasse Tyson. 

Actually, that didn't sound so bad. 

She especially liked how she maniacally waved her hands around when she was trying to make a point and how she had over-enunciated most words. 

"I actually should get going," Lexa's voice broke her out of her musings. "Thanks for hanging out with me."

"Of course," Clarke answered. "You can now say you have like 4 friends."

"You wish." Lexa stepped forward as she spoke and reached out.

Clarke held her breath, not knowing what was about to happen, but what Lexa did was pull the brim of her snapback down slightly to cover her eyes.

She swatted the hand away playfully, hiding her disappointment that Lexa wasn't making a gesture of the romantic variety.

Friends. They were friends now. 

Still, when Lexa wiggled her fingers in a cutesy goodbye and walked off to her own car, Clarke was left with a sense of unignorable longing. 

She watched Cosmos that night. 

 

 

 

 

By May, Lexa was a fixture in Clarke’s life. **  
**

She would come to the thrift shop at least once a week, prompting Clarke’s lunch break, during which they would talk about anything and everything. They didn’t have a lot of interests in common besides their music taste, but Clarke could make Lexa laugh and that was a feat in and of itself. 

Clarke would go back to work and Lexa would roam around the shop a while longer before slowly slipping out with her signature hint of a smile.

Occasionally, they would hang out outside the shop. They had gone out for lunch several times, but since Clarke took every possible shift, the shop was their main hangout spot. Her student loan debt was absurd.

Even after a month, Clarke’s still felt a wave of nervous excitement when Lexa walked in through the door, chimes ringing.

She was as lovely as ever, now approaching without the reluctance or shyness she once had.

Clarke wanted to embrace her. She was in sky blue sundress all long legs and wild hair. Lexa didn’t seem like the type of person who was super into physical affection, though, so she refrained. 

“Hey.”

“You won’t believe what I just saw…”

  
She tried to listen, but as Lexa spoke animatedly, waving her arms around, Clarke's gaze was drawn down to her mouth. Lexa was on a tirade about the crazy manicurist lady across the lot. Clarke watched her lips move, watched her teeth sink into her bottom lip in thought.

“Clarke?”

Blue eyes shot up to meet green.

“Octavia and her brother are having a party tonight. Please say you’ll go.”

Lexa’s confusion deepened and she frowned.

“Were you even listening?”

“Of course. Crazy nail lady. Will you come to the party?”

She pulled out the most desperate facial expression in her arsenal, lips pouting comically.

Lexa sighed. “You know how I feel about people. Adding alcohol into the mix only makes it worse.”

“Come on.” She dragged out the words, pleadingly.

Lexa looked away and started to shake her head, but then a defeated “fine” fell from her lips.

Clarke let out a delighted howl of excitement and before thinking, reached out to grab one of Lexa’s slender hands. At the horrified look on Lexa’s face, she panicked.

Pulling her hand back as if burned, she forgot to actually let go and ended up pulling Lexa along with her.

It was awkward. Super awkward.

Lexa stumbled forward, stepping into Clarke’s personal space.

Their faces were inches apart and Clarke watched as Lexa’s eyes widened and lips parted in surprise. Realizing she still had Lexa’s hand in her own, she quickly let go.

Lexa cleared her throat and took a step back.

Still slightly entranced, Clarke had to consciously force her feet not to move forward and eliminate the distance between them.

“Sorry. Got a little excited there.”

“Yeah.”

Lexa crossed her arms and held them tight to her chest, uncomfortably.

“You’re still coming, though, right?”

Letting out a huff, Lexa smiled slightly.

“You’re not going to ditch me with people I don’t know, right?”

“I won’t leave your side the whole time.”

What a selfish vow to make.

Both girls turned as the door swung open and Raven marched in,  followed by Monty.

They were laughing hysterically, gasping for breath.

Raven bent over to clutch her midsection and Monty patted her on the back.

At Clarke and Lexa’s blank stares, Raven explained.  

“Engineering joke. You wouldn’t understand.”

Clarke rolled her eyes and watched Lexa’s mouth twist into a frown. Raven and Monty were a dangerous duo. Dangerous as in obnoxiously nerdy. Sometimes they actually had to be separated.

Monty sauntered over and gently snaked his arm around Clarke’s waist, smiling kindly at her and Lexa.

Raven, on the other hand, slapped Clarke on the ass, gave Lexa a nod, and walked behind the counter to the register.

“Excited for tonight?” Monty spoke in a hushed tone, being considerate in case Lexa had not been invited.  

Clarke nodded eagerly, replying louder to assure him.  

“I’m pumped, but Lexa isn’t so convinced.”

They both looked over to Lexa, who seemed overwhelmed by the sudden attention and only shrugged as an answer.

“The Blakes know how to throw a party. You’ll have fun. Trust me,” Monty said.

He jabbed his thumb into his chest and winked.

Lexa gave him a tight, polite smile.

Clarke felt her chest swell with affection for the boy and leant further into his embrace.

****After a moment, Lexa pulled out her phone to check the time.

“I’m going to go. Text me the party details?”

Clarke was disappointed at her sudden rush to leave, but remained hopeful about the party.

“Yeah! See you tonight!”  

Monty and Raven both offered their own goodbyes. 

 Clarkewatched her go and thenturned to them when the door had closed. 

“See, she’s not so bad.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Yeah…” Monty spoke hesitantly.

 He looked over to Raven to supply an answer, which she did. 

“Dude, she was glaring at us again.”

Monty nodded, swallowing nervously.

"She looked like she wanted to bludgeon me to death."

Clarke scoffed.

"You guys are crazy. Lexa is harmless."

"Easy for you to say," Monty muttered, "she looks at _you_ like you put the sun in the sky." 

Clarke really tried not to smile, tried not to take pleasure in that statement, but it was hopeless.

She thought of Lexa in her blue sundress, face inches from her own. 

She thought of the delicate line of her collarbone. 

She thought of that damn freckle on her upper lip. 

She was hopeless. 

 

 


	5. 5

When Clarke arrived at the party, the house was already full of people, many of whom were already drunk.

She fought the urge to pick up the plastic cups littering the floor and instead searched for a familiar face.

Octavia was perched on a window sill in the living room. Lincoln was looming over her, hands on her thighs, keeping her balanced. He leaned in for a kiss. 

Clarke decided to leave them be and get a beer. 

In the kitchen, she found Monty and Jasper making drink concoctions. 

"Oh, hey! You've got to try this, Clarke!" 

She spotted an open jar of mayonnaise on the counter and started to back away slowly.

Her phone buzzed, alerting her of Lexa's arrival and she used the excuse to make a quick escape.

She heard them call after her, but pretended not to.

Pulling open the front door, she watched eagerly as Lexa made her way up the driveway.

She had on denim shorts and a plain black tee shirt, with a flannel tied around her waist. 

Her hair was pulled back in the intricate braids Clarke had become familiar with.  

She felt her pulse quicken as Lexa scaled the steps. 

"Hey."

"Hello."

She admired Lexa for a moment more before leading her inside.  

"I'll go get us drinks."

Lexa nodded, turning to take it all in. People were dancing, shouting, making out, and drinking. Heavily. 

When Clarke reentered the kitchen, the mad scientist drink makers were gone. She breathe a sigh of relief before pulling two beers out of the fridge. 

She popped off the caps expertly, hoping she chose an okay brand. 

 

As soon as she walked into the living room, she knew something was off. 

The cacophony of chatter in the room came to a sudden halt as everyone turned to see what was happening. Someone even turned the music down. Clearly, they wanted a show.

Clarke followed their line of vision to see Lexa.

She was pinning Jasper to the wall.

Jasper, in turn, was gaping, terrified as she maintained a tight hold of his shirt collar.

His plastic beer cup fell to the floor, forgotten.

What had he managed to do in the two minutes that she was gone?

As she rushed over, Clarke could see how Lexa’s jaw clenched furiously.

“What the hell, Lexa?”

She hesitantly placed a firm hand on Lexa’s forearm. Her skin was warm and soft under her touch.

Lexa barely spared her a glance, but her grip on Jasper’s shirt lessened slightly.

“Are all your friends homophobes or just this one?” Lexa spit out, eyes still on Jasper who cowered further into the wall.

Clarke didn’t know what to say to that. She was baffled. Luckily, Lexa expanded.

“He kept hitting on me. I kept telling him I liked girls, but he still wouldn’t leave me the hell alone.”

She had never mentioned anything to suggest her orientation before and Clarke felt lightheaded at the revelation. Lexa was glaring at her, though, so she couldn’t dwell on it.

Jasper’s eyes were wide and glossy eyes. It was clear that he was drunk. He was always such a stupid drunk.

He looked to Clarke, pleadingly. “I thought maybe she liked boys too, like ...” She was glad he trailed off because she knew he was going to say ‘you.’

And yeah, she’d probably hate him if they hadn’t grown up together.

“Lexa...Jasper’s an idiot, but he’s not a homophobe. In fact, one of his best friends is gay.”

“Oh yeah?” she challenged, “ _Who_?”

Clarke felt her own temper growing at Lexa’s tone.

“Me.”

It took a second to click in Lexa’s mind, but when it did, her mouth fell open slightly in shock.

She hesitantly let her captive go. Jasper scurried away, not so gracefully, but neither of the two spared him another glance.

“I don’t like him.” Lexa spoke, but her voice was calmer.

Relieved, Clarke let out a chuckle. “I don’t really either.”

By then, everyone who had been watching the exchange had become bored that there wouldn’t be a fight. The music was turned up again.

Lexa started to step closer, so that Clarke could hear what she said next. Clarke inhaled deeply, smelling a mixture of weed, sweat, and once she was close enough, Lexa. Against the harsh scents of the room, Lexa smelled like vanilla and honey and other sweet things.

Lexa rested one arm up on the wall behind them and let the other hang limply at her side.

“Sorry.” She said into Clarke’s ear. “I’ve had some bad experiences with people not accepting my sexuality.”

Clarke flushed at the husk of Lexa’s voice and at the warmth of her breathe on her cheek.

Lexa looked sheepish, nothing like the girl she saw moments ago. Clarke’s heart ached for her.

“People suck, sometimes.”

“Only sometimes?” Lexa looked doubtful.

Instead of answering with words, Clarke reached out and ghosted her fingers shyly along Lexa’s.

Later, she’d blame, or thank, the alcohol in her system.

She watched in awe as her hand flexed and turned at her touch.

Before she could pull back and apologize, Lexa tangled their fingers together loosely. Clarke’s stomach flipped and she nearly buckled over when her eyes darted up to see Lexa’s piercing eyes staring right back at her. Now that had nothing to do with her slight buzz.

“Only sometimes,” she heard Lexa mumble to herself as they leant their backs against the wall, side by side.

Clarke shivered, despite the warm spring air and the mass of bodies moving around her.

Their fingers stayed joined between them.

Together, they watched the commotion. 

 

 

When Bellamy came over, she tried to give him her full attention. He introduced himself to Lexa and put out his hand for her to shake, like a diplomat.

She was was thankful he was showing Lexa that she was welcome despite her encounter with Jasper.

Clarke revelled in the feeling of Lexa’s thumb gently running across her knuckles before she let go and placed her hand into Bellamy’s.

She instantly missed the contact.

After some small talk, Bellamy left to get another drink, inviting Lexa with him. She followed him hesitantly, but quickly looked back at Clarke as if asking for permission.

Giving her a thumbs up, Clarke grinned wildly.

She watched Lexa and Bellamy disappear among a throng of people and then she let out a deep breath.

She wasn’t alone for long, though. Raven found her and forcefully pulled her into that same crowd to make her dance.

Begrudgingly, Clarke shook her hips, letting a drunken Raven wrap her arms around her waist. They danced and danced and danced.

She even worked up a sweat. 

When the party finally was finally winding down, she found Lexa on the porch. She was looking up at the stars. 

"I saw you dancing." She didn't even have to look over to know it was Clarke.

"Why didn't you come over?"

Lexa's lips quirked up.

"Because then I would have to dance, too." 

"Probably." Clarke confirmed. She looked up to the stars, too. "I'm sorry I, like, ditched you. I promised I'd stay with you."

Lexa shrugged nonchalantly. "If anything I ditched _you_. Don't worry about it."

A drunken bunch of people busted out onto the porch, stumbling and shouting. Lexa rolled her eyes and winced at their volume. 

"I think that's my cue to go." 

Clarke nodded slowly, disappointed. She would stay overnight. Part of her was hoping Lexa would crash there too. They didn't even have that much time to hang out.

"Are you good to drive?"

"I didn't drink anything."

Her chest swelled all over again with the knowledge that Lexa had held her hand while entirely sober. 

"Should I apologize to Jasper?" Lexa asked after a pause as if the offer pained her. 

Clarke let out a laugh.

"I think he might pee his pants if you come within ten feet of him." 

Lexa looked proud, if anything. Her eyes twinkled. 

"I'm glad I came, Clarke."

She walked off, then, disappearing into the darkness of the end of the driveway. 


	6. 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it's been so long! I've been busy with life, but I'm back now and promise to post more consistently. This one is just a snippet for me to get back into the swing of things and re-find everyone's voices.

 

Clarke woke up to the buzz of her phone and to a brutal hangover. Octavia groaned from beside her, burrowing further under the blankets. Meanwhile, Raven snored on her other side, clearly not bothered at all.

Rubbing at her temples, Clarke considered the best possible way to climb out from between her two friends without disturbing them. Her head pulsed with pain. Ibuprofen was the priority, so she simply rolled over Raven clumsily. She stood over the bed, smiling affectionately as Raven snored louder and rolled over to spoon Octavia.

She splashed water on her face before she read the text message. The blush on her face when she thought back to the night before made her want to go back to the bathroom and splash some more.

The text was from Lexa. It read: ‘Good morning. Please give Octavia and Bellamy my thanks for their hospitality. It was certainly lively. Hopefully you remember at least some portions.’

Clarke wondered if it was a joke or if Lexa really thought she had that much to drink. She deliberated over a reply before setting for short, but sweet.

‘I remember it in all its glory. Thanks for coming!’

Her phone buzzed again, moments later, just as she was opening the refrigerator. This time, Lexa was calling. Before she could even say hello, Lexa asked, “You’re still at Octavia’s, right?”

“Yes, why?” Had she left something behind accidentally?

“Answer the door.”

“Wait, what--” There was a click on the other line, followed by a firm knock at the front door.

Clarke winced at the sound, her headache still a dull ache, but she ignored it and rushed down the hall, unsure of what to expect.

There stood Lexa, holding a bag of what Clarke could only hope was food and a single styrofoam cup. She was wearing glasses and her hair looked like a mane. Clarke felt her chest swell.

“I brought you muffins and a coffee. The muffins are for all, but I just got the one coffee because I only have two hands…I was going to bring doughnuts instead, but then I decided it might be too much for your stomachs after all that alcohol.”  

She tried not to visibly swoon, but as Lexa stood there awkwardly, arms full and face earnest, Clarke had to reach out to the door frame to steady herself...or perhaps to stop herself from reaching out to Lexa.

 

“Sorry!” Clarke realized she was spacing out, so she grabbed the bag of muffins from Lexa’s hands and led her into the kitchen.

  
She placed the muffins on the kitchen counter reverently, inspecting the choices she had: chocolate chip, raisin, and blueberry. Lexa handed over the cup of coffee and then rifled through her pockets, pulling out a bunch of packs of sugar.

“You really didn’t have to do all this. You have to let me pay you back, at least for my share.”

“Nonsense.”

  
They exchanged shy smiles, moving to sit at the kitchen table.

“Did I hear someone knocking?” Bellamy entered the kitchen, wearing nothing but boxers and a grimace. His shaggy hair looked as bad as ever. Clarke jabbed a thumb toward Lexa before handing him the bottle of Ibuprofen.

He patted her on the back in thanks and then eyed the counter. His eyes lit up when he saw the food.

“Sweet!”

A muffin was stuffed in his mouth before Lexa even began to tell him he could have one. Raven was the next to join them. She plopped herself down into Clarke’s lap unceremoniously.

“Lexa brought us muffins if you want one,” Bellamy told her.

As quick as she entered Clarke’s lap, she was gone, grabbing at a muffin of her own.

 **  
** “Has anyone ever told you that you are an angel sent from above to save our sorry souls?” Raven looked from her muffin to Lexa with unbridled adoration.

  
Lexa shrugged, face expressionless.

 

"All the time." 

 

Octavia woke to the sound of laughter. 

 

 

 

 

By mid afternoon, they had all fully recovered from their hangovers.

  
Clarke was pleasantly surprised when Lexa stuck around after the food delivery and was willingly hanging out with her friends. She wasn’t even glaring. Though, just as she thought that, Octavia made an inappropriate joke about Lexa looking like a sexy librarian in her glasses, receiving a stern gaze in return. Octavia held her tongue, though Clarke knew her well enough to see that she was barely able to hold back a comment on how the stern look was only adding to her librarian image.

Clarke didn’t think she looked like a librarian at all, but found Lexa’s visible dislike of the comparison high amusing. And adorable.

They were all lounging in the living room, after having cleaned up the house. There were still a few beer bottles and plastic cups scattered here and there, but it was much better than it had been. Raven, Octavia, and Lexa were on one couch, while Bellamy was sprawled out on the other couch with Clarke. He was already taking up two thirds of the space when he tried to lay out his legs on her lap. She instantly threw them off, shrugging when he pouted. She glanced at Lexa who was already watching the exchange. Lexa gave her an approving nod and Clarke could see from the hint of a smirk on her face that her approval was of her mistreatment of the boy beside her. She tried not to take too much enjoyment from that fact, but failed.

“Lexa?”

Clarke watched her snap back to attention, looking at Raven guiltily. There was a subtle rosy tint to her cheeks.

“Sorry. What were you saying?”

Raven rolled her eyes and Clarke hid a smile.

“I’m not sure at what point you stop listening entirely, so I’ll start over.” Octavia reprimanded her with a slap to her shoulder, but she continued easily. “Clarke has an art show coming up and we’re all going for support. Well it’s not her show, but her arts being featured in it, which is awesome. It would be even more awesome if you could come too.”

  
Clarke finally stopped staring at Lexa when she realized Raven was talking about her. She tried to hold back a groan of embarrassment. Raven was always doing shit like that. Ever the diplomat, Bellamy reasoned, “Raven, don’t you think that’s something that’s between Clarke and Lexa?”

Raven shrugged, still not seeing how the situation was wildly awkward. Meanwhile, poor Lexa was looking between Raven and Clarke helplessly, not wanting to say the wrong thing. Clarke was too annoyed with Raven to comment, so it was Lexa who spoke first.

“I mean...if Clarke wants me there, I’d love to, but it’s totally fine if you don’t want to make a big deal of it or if you only want people who you’ve known for along time, like you’re closest friends…”

She trailed off, nervously running a hand through her hair. Clarke rushed to assure her, never having seen her so vulnerable.

“No, no. Of course you’re invited. I was going to invite you. Raven just got to it first.” She spoke the last words toward Raven, eyes conveying her message.

When Lexa left to use the bathroom minutes later, Clarke looked at a sheepish Raven. Finally, she must have realized how she overstepped.

“What the hell was that, Ray?”

“That was me doing you a favor.” Clarke growled and Raven quickly amended her reply. “Okay! You’re right. I’m sorry. It wasn’t my place to invite her. I just thought you might not have the lady balls to do it.”

Octavia smacked her again, on Clarke’s behalf. When Lexa returned, she asked to speak to her privately, so Clarke tugged her into the hallway, unconsciously keeping her hand delicately wrapped around Lexa’s wrist.

“Look, I don’t want you to feel obligated to invite me because Raven told me about it. I know this a big deal for you. I wouldn’t want to ruin it.”

Lexa had her eyes trained on the floor, brows furrowed and mouth tensed in a  straight line. Clarke sighed.

“Lexa, I wasn’t mad that you were invited. I’m mad that you weren’t invited by me. Raven has this tendency of inserting herself in other people’s situations. This had nothing to do with you. I’d love for you to come to the art show. It is a big deal for me and I want to share it with you.”

Lexa still looked relatively uncomfortable, but finally looked up. Clarke was excruciatingly aware of how close they were standing. She watched as Lexa’s wide eyes darted down momentarily before finding hers again.

 

"Then I'll be there." 

She was even lovelier up close. Those damn eyes either changed color or looked different in certain lightings because they were darker than ever. Sea green. If Clarke had leaned closer, it was merely to admire Lexa’s eyes, of course. Nothing more. If Lexa took her cue and leaned in as well, that was just mere coincidence. 

They startled apart when Bellamy slid in suddenly, using his socks as skates on the wood floor.

 

“Sorry to interrupt this…” he looked between the two, “...eye sex, but we’re ordering pizza and need to know what kind you guys want.”

Clarke wasn’t sure which friend she was going to end up murdering first. She let go of Lexa's wrist hesitantly and they followed Bellamy back into the living room. 

 

No one said anything about the fact that Clarke sat practically on top of Lexa even though there was plenty of space on the couches. The one who seemed to mind the least, though, was Lexa. In fact, an unbiased onlooker might say she looked rather pleased with the turn of events. 

 

As Bellamy called in the order, the girls heckled him. Well, Octavia and Raven heckled him while Lexa muffled her laughter by pushing her face into Clarke's shoulder. Clarke shivered at the breath on her neck. She was too distracted to have any idea what Lexa was laughing about, but laughed along with her. 

 


	7. 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully you like this one. To new readers, welcome and thank you. To old readers who encouraged me to to continue, extra thanks and love to you <3
> 
>  
> 
> If you're confused about the number of chapters, I've combined a couple. Technically, this is chapter 11. Sorry to anyone whose comments were deleted in that process. I read them and appreciated them all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry in advance if there are any silly grammar/syntax mistakes. I'm not big on proofreading. At all.

The outfit she chose was deliberate: tight navy blue dress pants, fitted white button down, navy blue bow tie, oxfords, and yes...suspenders. She pulled her hair back into a neat bun, letting a few stray blonde curls fall free. Lexa had seen her in a dress, she had seen her as a tomboy, and quite unfortunately, she had seen her after a hangover...but she had never seen Dapper Clarke. Admittedly, she had just made “Dapper Clarke” up and 90% of the items she was wearing were borrowed from friends, but she looked damn good.

  
Was she nervous for her art to be displayed for all to see? Absolutely. Was she more nervous for Lexa to see her art? Well, she was about to bear her soul. That’s basically what art was to Clarke. Her heart. Her diary was tacked up on the walls and Lexa was going to bear witness. Shaking herself out of that reverie and straightening the bow tie, Clarke let herself check the mirror one more time before leaving her room and following the sound of Raven threatening that they were leaving without her. Finding the gang in the living room, she did a sarcastic curtsy before replying.

 

“And what would be the point of leaving without _The Talent_?”

 

Raven threw a pen at her and Octavia groaned. Bellamy rolled his eyes. Jasper and Monty were apparently already in the car waiting and Lincoln was going to meet them there.

 

“Excited? Everyone is going to love your stuff,” Bellamy spoke as they made their way out the door, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder.  He looked handsome in his suit and she felt a surge of affection for this man who had quickly become a brother to her. She was about to reply when she was interrupted by a painful pinch on the ass. It was Octavia. “You also look very hot,” she tacked onto the conversation. Her methods were slightly different than the other Blake’s, but encouraging nonetheless.

 

When everyone was situated in the car (and it was a tight squeeze), Clarke momentarily forget her nerves and took a moment to appreciate being surrounded by her best friends, who were all there solely to support her in her dream.

 

“You know I love you guys, right?”

 

Remarkably, Raven found another pen to throw at her.  

 

 

 

 

When they pulled up at the gallery, Clarke's nerves came back tenfold and she grabbed onto Monty's hand. She was squeezing pretty hard, but he didn't mention it and if she hadn't been so near panic, she would've thanked him for it. 

  
“My exhibition space isn’t even that big. You didn’t all have to come.”  

 

Her second thoughts and insecurities were completely ignored as she was tugged out of the car and into the gallery. Immediately, Clarke put on her confident front. Much like "Dapper Clarke," it was entirely made up, but she wore it well. She stood taller, shoulders back, and plastered on a near-pretentious grin. She shook hands and accepted the glass of champagne offered to her. She let gallery owner kiss her cheek and rave about her work. She thanked her friends for all of their generous feedback. But all the while, in the back of her mind, she was thinking of one person in particular and when they would show up. 

 

No mental psych up could have prepared her, though, because when that particular person _did_ show up, she was in a strapless, red dress and her lipstick was even redder. Her hair was down and straightened. Clarke tuned out what Lincoln was saying about the painting of her father, which she was sure was very sweet, and without meaning to, gravitated toward Lexa, whose eyes were scanning the room. As soon as they made eye contact, Lexa's cool demeanor dropped and she revealed the ghost of a smile. If Clarke shouldered a few people to get over to her, that was a mere accident. She was always known for her clumsiness. 

 

"Hey. Thanks so much for coming," she breathed out, once within earshot. 

"Hello, Clarke." Lexa's slight smile was splitting into a full blown grin and Clarke mirrored it. 

"You look incredible," she said before she could think to change her mind. 

Lexa bit her lower lip shyly and Clarke's eyes followed the action and stared at her mouth. The lipstick accentuated the fullness of her lips, but unfortunately covered Clarke's favorite freckle. She let her eyes drift lower. She admired her elegant neck, sun-kissed shoulders and then drifted lower---

"Clarke?"

She looked up fast enough to get whiplash.

"Sorry. Didn't hear you over the music."

Lexa raised a brow, but nodded slowly. 

"I said you look great, too. So, where's _your_ stuff?"  As she spoke the last part, she gestured around the room. 

"In a different room, but you can look around first if you want. I'm not the only artist here." 

Lexa scoffed and leaned in closer, as if to tell a secret.

On instinct, Clarke leant in as well. 

"I don't care about other people's stuff." 

Logically, Clarke was aware that it was an insensitive, borderline rude statement to make, but she couldn't help herself from smiling. Lexa looked rather proud of herself. 

"Okay then. Follow me." 

Despite her words, she grabbed Lexa's hand and tugged her along, turning her face away to hide her nerves. Lexa let herself be led and rubbed her thumb across Clarke's knuckles, just like that night at the party. Clarke shivered, letting go when they found themselves in the small cove of the gallery. She had to fight her strong inclination to say it was just a hobby, that she wasn't even that good ....anything to qualify what Lexa was already moving closer to inspect. Raven was always reminding her not to belittle her work like that. So she let her art speak for itself. 

A lot of time passed. Lexa moved slowly around the room, staring at each painting, first from a few feet away and then up close. She said nothing and her face gave nothing away. It was unnerving. Clarke was being driven mad by waiting and the silence. Just as she was about to comment about how good Lexa must be at poker, the subject of her thoughts spun around to look at her. 

Lexa's evergreen eyes were glossy with unshed tears and Clarke inhaled sharply, half in surprise in half in awe of her fragile beauty. She took a step forward, perhaps to comfort, but Lexa shook her head vehemently and held a hand up as a signal to stop.

"These are beautiful, Clarke." 

She almost shattered at the rawness of her words and the way her name was spoken as it were holy. She wanted to ask Lexa to elaborate. She wanted her thoughts on each piece, to know which was her favorite. Most of all, she wanted to know why this goddess, who was most often wearing a face of stone, looked so heartbroken at the sight of her paintings. Instead, she answered with the quietest, most modest of thank you's. 

Lexa shook her head again, one last time, schooling her expression back to one of neutrality. 

"Now that I've seen the _real_ art, shall we look around?" 

Clarke could only nod dumbly and follow her out. When Octavia and Lincoln greeted Lexa, she smiled at them genuinely.  When Jasper approached, her smile dimmed slightly, but she nodded politely. He scurried away anyway and Clarke heard Lexa snort, fighting an audible laugh.  Whatever happened in the other room seemed to have passed. They moved to look at a sculpture, of what, Clarke was not quite sure.  When she turned to ask Lexa what she thought it was, Lexa was already looking directly at her. Staring, in fact, heavy lidded and with an expression that Clarke couldn’t place.

 

“Look at the art, Lexa,” Clarke pretended to scold.

“I _am_ ,” she replied shortly, maintaining eye contact.

 

Then, as if remembering something she had momentarily forgotten, Lexa went wide eyed and shuffled away to grab a glass of champagne.  Clarke didn’t even have time to react. Bellamy quickly whisked her back into the cove where her work was kept, insisting on taking a photo of her in front of her exhibit. 

"Okay, DAD." She said, posing, but she was still thinking about what Lexa had said. 

If you look closely enough at the photo, she'd later find, there is still the remnants of a blush to her cheeks. 

 


	8. 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new chapter so soon? You bet. I got inspired again, I guess :D

Clarke was talked into going out for celebratory drinks after, which she only agreed to because Lexa nodded when Jasper offered the idea to the group. She was by no means enthused, that much was clear, but all eyes were on her to decide AKA convince Clarke.

 

“That-a girl! ” Raven smacked a hand on Lexa’s back and then retracted it slowly when she received a death glare.  Clarke put her hand lightly where Raven’s hand had just been on the small of Lexa’s back, just in case. Lexa just blinked slowly and let herself be led away. Clarke let out a breathy laugh when she heard Raven murmur something as they walked out.

 

“I almost just died, O.”

 

The bar was not a nice one. They looked especially out of place in their fancy attire, but the place was empty anyway, save for the bartender and a couple of older men. One of them winked at the girls as they walked by. Octavia delivered him a simple and fierce “nope”  and they decided on the booth furthest from him while Lincoln ordered a round of beers.  Octavia, Raven, and Monty squeezed on one side of the booth, while Bellamy, Clarke, and Lexa squeezed onto the other side. Jasper whined for a bit, but eventually pulled over a chair for himself and another for Lincoln.

 

While they waited for their drinks , Monty told them the story of some old lady who hit on him at the gallery and how he accidentally ended up giving her his number out of politeness. Clarke watched, transfixed, as Lexa cupped her hands over her mouth to cover how hard she was laughing. They were pressed against each other, without much choice. Clarke certainly wasn’t going to complain. Lexa smelled as lovely as ever and she liked the natural buzz she felt when their knees accidentally bumped together. Was it accidental after the fifth time?

 

Lincoln arrived with a large tray of drinks and was rewarded with a round of applause (and a catcall from Octavia). Clarke looked forward to adding to her buzz.

 

“Linc and Bell are both the DD’s,” she reassured Lexa when she seemed to hesitate before accepting the beer handed to her.  That seemed to be enough convincing.

 

“A toast to our Picasso” Jasper suddenly announced, raising his beer so quickly it almost sloshed. At least he was well-meaning.

 

“To Clarke,” the rest of the group recited lovingly and clinked their bottles. Lexa didn’t join the ritual, but spoke huskily into Clarke’s ear a moment later, “Congratulations, Picasso.” Lexa’s lips quirked up at her own joke took a long swig of her drink. It was going to be a long night.

 

She had that same thought again a few beers later, when Raven convinced everyone it was time to dance, despite there not being a dance floor or the appropriate music. In fact, what was playing could only be described as bluegrass. Everyone else had enough drinks to be agreeable, though, and they filed out of the booth to the center of the bar, leaving Lexa and Clarke behind.

 

“This is going to be very ugly,” Clarke warned.

 

“I expect nothing less from your friends,”  Lexa replied darkly,  but her smile gave her away.

 

They watched in horrified fascination as Octavia and Raven shimmied around each other while Monty and Jasper awkwardly flailed their arms. Bellamy and Lincoln stood like guards by their friends, laughing along but refusing to groove.

 

Clarke had to turn away when Monty started to play the air banjo.

 

“Do you want another beer?”

 

Lexa shook her head. There was more space between them now, but still enough for Clarke to be able to count her freckles and boy did she want to.

 

“You are extremely talented, Clarke.” Lexa spoke after a few minutes. “I feel like I should get your autograph.”

 

Clarke loved compliments and she wasn’t a stranger to them, but hearing such high praise from Lexa made her unusually shy. She ducked her head.

 

“I don’t know about that…”

 

“Really.” Lexa had never looked so sincere or so open.

 

That’s what gave Clarke the courage to ask her next question.

 

“Then why did you...react the way you did?”

 

Lexa’s jaw clenched and her eyes lost their softness. She looked away from Clarke and started to peel the label off her beer bottle.

 

Clarke wanted to backtrack or say something to relieve the tension in the air, but she had no clue what was going on in the other girl’s mind, so she used her last ounce of courage to place her hand over the one Lexa had wrapped around her beer.

 

As if by magic, Lexa deflated. She traded her guarded look for one of timidity.

 

“Forgive me,” she started finally, voice quiet, “I’m not that good at putting stuff like this into words. Feelings stuff.” Clarke had to smile at that, nodding for Lexa to continue.  “I’m not easily moved. I chose social science for a reason. I get consumption and production. I don’t really get people in that same way. But, when I looked at your artwork...I got you. I felt...stuff.”  As she spoke, she kept her eyes trained ahead.

 

“What did you feel?” Clarke encouraged, after recovering her ability to speak. She took it as a bad sign when Lexa removed her hand from the bottle, making Clarke's hand drop away too. 

 

Lexa finally turned to face her, making deliberate eye contact for the first time since the Picasso comment. She looked conflicted.

  
She opened her mouth to speak, but instead of answering, she quickly re shut it, rolled her eyes, and leant in.

  
Before Clarke could process the movement, Lexa’s lips were pressed to her cheek, ever so gently. Deliciously and tortuously near her own mouth. She stayed there for a moment. Clarke held her breath and waited. Apparently that moment was too long, though, because, without consciously deciding to, Clarke suddenly turned her head. 

Lexa made a noise of surprise against her lips and then, without anymore overture, they were kissing.

Clarke's last clear thought was that she hoped Lexa couldn't feel her shaking. 

 


End file.
